


The Opposite of Ridiculous

by Siria



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: They're leaning into one another, fists clenched, and before Amanda can stop herself, she says, "Are you honestly telling me you two never made out when you were in high school? Not even a little bit?"
Relationships: Amanda LaRusso/Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 26
Kudos: 129





	The Opposite of Ridiculous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinityofone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinityofone/gifts).



Amanda's a people person. She's in sales; it'd be strange if she weren't. She's good at reading people, good at anticipating who'll be swayed by solid gas mileage and who'll sign the lease because she's grinned at them and told them just how fast this newest model can go from zero to sixty. She's also generally pretty good at knowing when to back off and let the customer talk themselves into going for what they want—but not today, a dull Thursday afternoon when she had a little too much wine with lunch and Daniel and Johnny Lawrence are hissing at one another in the front doorway over some minor thing that's really cover for a long-ago hurt. They're leaning into one another, fists clenched, and before Amanda can stop herself, she says, "Are you honestly telling me you two never made out when you were in high school? Not even a little bit?"

Their heads whip around and they stare at her, near identical expressions of shock on their faces. It'd be purely comical, if not for the way their gazes flicker over to one another momentarily, and Amanda is very, very good at reading people. She doesn't even think it's a conscious thing between them, but once you know what you're looking for, oh, there it is.

Amanda folds her arms. "I don't understand you, I honestly don't."

"Honey," Daniel says, slow and careful like he thinks she's the one being ridiculous, which is clearly not the case. True, having a second glass of wine on a weekday was maybe a bit of a misstep, but she's not the one who's been nursing some sort of unrealised sexual _something_ for more than thirty years.

"I, I think I should go," Johnny says, trying to back out through the door. His eyes are fixed on the ground, like he thinks that if he's not looking at anyone then no one can see him, and Amanda is absolutely not the ridiculous one here.

"No," she says, pointing a finger at him. Johnny freezes on the spot. He's still not looking at anyone and his shoulders are up around his ears.

"Sweetheart," Daniel says. "Amanda—"

" _No_ ," Amanda says, turning her finger on him. "The kids aren't back until tomorrow afternoon, we have got plenty of time to resolve all of this one way or another."

"What are you even—"

"I think I'm being pretty clear here!" Amanda says. "Upstairs!"

Johnny and Daniel share another look and then, because Amanda is very good at reading people, they follow her up the stairs.

Amanda isn't sure if it's the wine, or several months of exasperation coming to a boil, or something else entirely. What she does know is how she wants this to go, in a space that's hers. She wants them to stand at the foot of the bed, so that's what she tells them to do, and they do it. She wants them to face one another, to look at one another.

She wants them to kiss.

Johnny makes a token protest. "Look, I'm not... I don't want stuff like this. I date babes, okay?"

Amanda took two whole psychology classes in college, but she thinks even without that she'd still be able to recognise denial for what it is. With Daniel, of course, it's a little different. She loves him, and she knows that he loves her, but God knows the man is capable of extreme tunnel vision at times. Sometimes that works in his favour—would they have their business or this home without it?—but sometimes it means he closes himself off to possibilities even before he's aware they exist.

Amanda plants herself in the doorway and crosses her arms again. "Kiss," she says again, and arches an eyebrow at the look Daniel shoots her.

But then he turns back to Johnny and he—oh. And Amanda has to be honest with herself now, too, doesn't she? She _wants_ them to kiss. They're awkward together at first, mouths tentative, and Johnny's holding his arms a little away from his sides like he has no idea what to do with his whole body. It's fascinating, watching Daniel's brow furrow and Johnny's eyes drift closed; seeing how Daniel reaches out with one hand and takes hold of the hem of Johnny's t-shirt. Amanda shakes her head. Did they really not know at all, that they could be something like this?

Amanda takes her shoes off so that she can pad silently around them to the bed. She unzips her sheath dress and lets it fall to the floor before settling herself on the bed with her back to the headboard. It feels delightfully decadent, to be propped up against pillows in nothing but her underwear on a weekday afternoon and watch these two men make out because she told them to. And Amanda's seen that look on Daniel's face a thousand times before—the look that says that he's right on the verge of figuring something out—so it's no particular shock when he coaxes Johnny's mouth open and the kiss turns deeper. But the pulse of arousal that sparks in her is shocking in its intensity and Amanda presses her legs together, nursing the ache.

Johnny and Daniel finally pull away from one another, both of them breathing hard, both of them clearly startled to find that Amanda is now on the bed.

"Come on, guys," she says, patting the mattress next to her. "Keep up."

"We aren't—" Daniel says.

"I'm not—" Johnny says.

Amanda would find this all a lot more convincing if Johnny didn't look pleasantly dazed and if Daniel weren't clutching him by the biceps. "Strip," she says. "I want to see you both properly."

While they get rid of t-shirts and jeans and socks and shoes, Amanda leans over to the bedside table and takes a bottle of massage oil from the drawer. Still half full, it's been gathering dust there for months. No time like the present, Amanda thinks, and tosses it onto the bed. She sits back up to find that both men are now fully undressed. She knows what Daniel's working with, of course, but Johnny’s not getting any complaints from her either. They're both half hard and look embarrassed by it, and Amanda has to dig her nails into the palms of her hands to keep from laughing at them both, because she doesn't think their dignity could take it.

"Come on," Amanda says again, and this time they move, clambering onto the bed and bickering a bit about whose legs should go where and whose elbow nudged who first.

"Focus, gentlemen, please," Amanda says, and laughs when they look up at her and gape identically at how she's touching herself through her underwear. She's wet and she wants more, and she stretches out a foot to poke Daniel in the side. "Or do I have to do all the work myself?"

"I'm not sure I know any of the right, uh, techniques," Daniel says, just as Johnny says, "I've never done any butt stuff."

Maybe Amanda _does_ have to do all the work herself.

"No," she says with great patience, tossing the bottle of oil to Daniel, "but sweetheart, I think you're perfectly capable of rubbing yourself off on his thighs, and Johnny is perfectly capable of liking it."

There's a flush working its way down Johnny's neck and across his chest and he's all the way hard now, so consider that another endorsement of Amanda's people-reading skills. Daniel swallows hard but then he's got Johnny on his knees in front of him and Amanda's sliding one hand under her panties.

From where she's sitting, Amanda can't directly see what Daniel's doing, but that's okay. What she can see she likes just fine: Johnny fisting his hands in the bedsheets, head hanging and breath coming harsh and fast; the way Daniel bites his lip as he slicks himself up and the way his eyes slide closed when he thrusts his cock in between Johnny's clenched thighs.

Amanda pushes a finger inside herself in time with Daniel's thrust, sighing at the relief and shuddering at how it just makes her want more. "Slow," she tells them. "No getting there before me," and the noise Johnny makes at that fizzes in Amanda's blood more deliciously than any wine.

"Ha," Daniel says, sounding winded. He's moving slower, though, hips working deliberately. "You... you try not, not coming..."

"Hmm," Amanda says, pushing another finger in and working at her clit with her thumb. "Maybe next time." Despite Daniel's teasing, Amanda doesn't just spend her time online browsing for shoes—she knows exactly what to buy to let her fuck them, if she wants to.

But for now she satisfies herself with saying, "Sweetheart, check how hard Johnny is."

Daniel has to lean forward, pressing even closer to Johnny so that he can reach around and stroke him. Johnny gasps and Daniel says, "Oh shit, oh wow," sounding amazed, as if it's only just hitting him now: he's hard for Johnny, and Johnny's hard for him.

With her free hand, Amanda reaches out and cups Johnny's jaw, tilts his face up. He looks caught between pleasure and panic, but he pushes into her touch like he can't help himself. For two men who've devoted so much time to the study of something that's supposed to be all about self-control and self-knowledge, Amanda thinks, they're both really dense about this stuff.

"Okay," Amanda says, mostly to herself. She cants her hips up so that she can wriggle out of her panties, and then shifts a little down the bed, spreading her legs. She cups the nape of his neck now, stroking the fine hairs there, and says, "Use your mouth, Johnny, good boy."

He's good at this, which is a bit of a pleasant surprise. She'd assumed that, on the spectrum of men's attitudes towards going down on a woman, Johnny would be the kind of guy who thought it made you effeminate. But Johnny is _very_ good at this. His tongue is, if Amanda can be crass here, a bit of a fucking revelation.

Amanda shivers, and lifts her head up so that she can meet Daniel's eye, watch him as he fucks Johnny as Johnny eats her out. She grins at him and then arches her back as she comes, an electric satisfaction that leaves her smug and breathless, lolling back against the pillows. Johnny is next and then Daniel, with a white-knuckled grip on Johnny's hips.

The air smells of sex, and is also free, at least for now, of that constant confused tension that's been driving Amanda nuts for months. She exhales and sends up a silent karmic thank you to Carolyn Faulkenberg—the woman may be a pain in the ass about everything to do with the PTA fundraiser, but she had also been very insistent when it came to wheedling Amanda into having that second glass of wine with lunch.

"See, guys, what was so hard about that?" Amanda asks. She gets nothing more than some mumbles in response.

When her knees feel a little more capable of working, Amanda pulls her underwear back up and heads for the bathroom. She clips her hair up and takes a quick shower, letting the hot water wash sweat and the last of any stress from her body. By the time she returns to the bedroom, Daniel and Johnny are both asleep—neither quite touching the other, their bodies curving towards one another like mirrored commas.

Amanda lies down next to Daniel, pressing close behind him and draping an arm around his waist. Daniel hums and sighs in his sleep, and Johnny rolls a little closer to them—and really, Amanda thinks as her own eyes flutter closed, they're both so very lucky that she's a people person.


End file.
